tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26186363161834690272024-02-19T03:23:47.097-06:00The Giraffe Head TreeThe Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.comBlogger409125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-87601579674221217312018-12-30T15:14:00.002-06:002018-12-30T15:14:41.845-06:00Hello. It's me. <br />
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<i>Winter Beach</i></div>
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Hi there. It has been a long time since I've been here but I've been missing the Giraffe Head Tree. I've dreamed about the tree recently - maybe because I've recently been to Alabama to visit family and friends. The Giraffe Head Tree, and this blog, was a large part of my life for years. Those were my Awakening Years. So, today I'm visiting and seriously consider making books from this blog. Should anyone read this post (chances are slim - I've been MIA) who has gone through this process and can recommend a company I'm wide open to suggestions.<br />
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In the meantime I bring you a beach photo for your day. Peace, friends.The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-42925134791113212012013-12-28T16:38:00.001-06:002013-12-28T16:38:57.136-06:00Transitions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweiUiJSRxji4uRObk_FLUZM-SNDDhZmzpQdZPO5k5PJcl-WtaPWT5OQB2tz3sas1gZ4_YfUC6ZRuRRC4xiSqqs7sOPLxmn5wWlJuoX5n-bYv2rbLoRa_O6Dboi1X2HVDI1Cp26dVsadI/s1600/IMG_7520_1000x667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweiUiJSRxji4uRObk_FLUZM-SNDDhZmzpQdZPO5k5PJcl-WtaPWT5OQB2tz3sas1gZ4_YfUC6ZRuRRC4xiSqqs7sOPLxmn5wWlJuoX5n-bYv2rbLoRa_O6Dboi1X2HVDI1Cp26dVsadI/s320/IMG_7520_1000x667.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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For various and sundry reasons I am making the move from Blogger to Wordpress. I'm still learning WP but am finding many aspects to it that I prefer. Blogger and the Giraffe Head Tree will always be a part of my heart but they no longer fit where I am Today...in the Now. <br />
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You can find me at my new blog: http://debibradford.wordpress.com/<br />
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Hope to see you there! The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-40954528216921893432013-10-30T08:50:00.000-05:002013-10-30T08:50:10.451-05:00Brought to you by Led Zepplin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqw__0oHrepZIwvOcL2kkKPOMcTbuZLeE9HFh2NRRUmirLl5Kn9SrZoMNcPP9pl8OdVEFi5YmfYV3-vdxJ1GWYv0y_sAaCUOuayd4pwTlsXl8h0us2H_FtG0P9rDBeKHSDzHzO3fABWY/s1600/IMG_4857_PS_CS6_1000x667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqw__0oHrepZIwvOcL2kkKPOMcTbuZLeE9HFh2NRRUmirLl5Kn9SrZoMNcPP9pl8OdVEFi5YmfYV3-vdxJ1GWYv0y_sAaCUOuayd4pwTlsXl8h0us2H_FtG0P9rDBeKHSDzHzO3fABWY/s320/IMG_4857_PS_CS6_1000x667.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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September 28, 2013</div>
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This is a grand adventure. Sunrises and sea turtles, northern gannets and ruddy turnstones, sand between my toes and sandspurs sticking in the bottom of my flip flops. Bald eagles and ospreys, salt marshes and the Cape Fear, ferries and fossils. Sadly for you I've not been blogging about most of it. It is time for a change.<br />
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August 22, 2013</div>
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It's also time to change my blog. Past time, really. I'm working on a new title and am excited about traveling in a new direction in blogging. I have really missed it, this blogging world, and I've missed YOU! I've amassed quite the collection of images which have been posted mostly on Facebook. FB leaves me kind of cold though. Not the people who I reach and chat with, but FB itself with its constantly changing Rules and Issues. Frankly, I don't trust them. <br />
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July 8, 2013</div>
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But I digress. Soon, I'll have a new blog and will be directing you to it somehow - surely it can't be that difficult.<br />
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Listening to: Ramble on, by Led Zepplin The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-72687307463927199732013-09-12T12:56:00.000-05:002013-09-12T12:56:22.928-05:00Hello<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWTH57Z3411nLURX-QHA70aT-Szk6lmBVHdaoXMM7SKe0Dp1OQvQ-9LyznNI8TVnRC-hlMlycDDDCM3YqKWRM1HxaGwPo-7cuZP7KcPytmXkdBxxxdLi0cC02SBkOblevnI5pWRIZDkI/s1600/IMG_4758_PS_CS6_1000x667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWTH57Z3411nLURX-QHA70aT-Szk6lmBVHdaoXMM7SKe0Dp1OQvQ-9LyznNI8TVnRC-hlMlycDDDCM3YqKWRM1HxaGwPo-7cuZP7KcPytmXkdBxxxdLi0cC02SBkOblevnI5pWRIZDkI/s320/IMG_4758_PS_CS6_1000x667.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
I seem to have writer's block. Possibly even photography block. What I am clearly having is hip block, as my left one is experiencing technical difficulties keeping me off the beach for a bit. Still, there are tons of images taken since our arrival at my disposal, lots of experiences not shared and ideas not brought forth to my blog. My poor, sad, neglected blog that so desperately needs a change. <br />
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We are fortunate to be living close to a beach. Photographing sunrises has been a favorite activity of mine since our arrival last March. Walking along this pier, watching the fishermen and women hauling in all manner of creatures (and letting most of them go), staring at the waves crashing beneath me, marveling at cannonball jellyfishes, sharks and stingrays cruising around, avoiding the pelicans and gulls who think they're going to get fed, then leaving through the store, buying locally made ice cream, is such a treat.<br />
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Riding the ferry brings intense joy. No matter how many times we passenger the Cape Fear River ferry to Southport and back again the trip never grows boring. Never. Ever. Such a peaceful calm. Watching the pelicans, gulls and terns swoop and dive for lunch, and the gulls pacing the ferry hoping for a handout is so cool. Occasionally dolphins will mirror the ferry for a bit before disappearing toward the mouth of the river into the ocean. Once, we spied a bald eagle. There are always sailboats, fishing boats and even ships to watch.<br />
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The salt marshes lend an exotic, mysterious, amazingly beautiful palette of seasonal colors. Bright greens in the spring, purples and browns toward summer ending in the luscious golds of autumn. I am in love with the salt marshes with its crabs and grackles, herons and egrets, snakes and oysters, dragonflies and damselflies. The salt marshes are the magical fringe between brackish waters and the maritime forest housing creatures and plants unique to that environment. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtf1nlgYcqryLegRrU9ISShf9UblvX9ZzLWmoDljPrhhW8nvLz5F_T-m5EDEeFg2PLFl0_T4A9C6v8IYU1SkPq2uPEQ9gtAmVO6JansW4_yKYOnhkeVfLfNIuFapLC-9yRPEcqeggoIYo/s1600/IMG_4736_900x600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtf1nlgYcqryLegRrU9ISShf9UblvX9ZzLWmoDljPrhhW8nvLz5F_T-m5EDEeFg2PLFl0_T4A9C6v8IYU1SkPq2uPEQ9gtAmVO6JansW4_yKYOnhkeVfLfNIuFapLC-9yRPEcqeggoIYo/s320/IMG_4736_900x600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The coolest thing EVER is that we have our own turtle nest incubating at the end of our walkway to the beach! These little guys are due to hatch sometime in October. I hope and pray I will be here for their birth and slipping and sliding into the ocean. How incredible! What a miracle! <br />
<br />So I'm pondering my blog again and considering even changing to Wordpress, thanks to a creative genius friend and blogger who encourages that direction. Blogger always seems to have spacing problems, unless it's the blog-ee (me!) and not Blogger's fault. No matter how tight I make spaces in between photos and text there are sometimes these large spaces that I can't make go away. But, since it's just a blog let's just Let It Be. For now. So that's my random blog post for now! I hope you are all doing well - I really miss you all!<br />
The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-7858627639099331862013-08-16T09:14:00.000-05:002013-08-16T09:15:53.945-05:00Brought to you by the letters "E" and "A"....<br />
After a five week journey to North Alabama helping family through surgeries and sneaking in a few visits along the way, I'm back at the beach. There's an odd disconnect one experiences after being gone for so long. In order to find myself again there has been lots of sleeping and simply "being," a couple of early evening Toddies on the Beach with the hubby, and yesterday...my first beach walk.<br />
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We've had an abundance of rainfall the past few days. Along with the rain drops came lightning and thunder, north winds and heavy seas. After the heat of early August I welcomed this change with open arms...and bare feet for my first serious walk. My goal was the green rocks of Fort Fisher. However, the universe had something completely different in mind for me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhUI8y8eqa34TqX5Vb2fjHOJZkUW0RUNrJfpnb_bc8pgMgTbkVqKmqBQgMWfgJIOQncI9624Sw8JAU8TGI882JMZ0BxKc4-5uL4Qi_VUN7oCodTXAZadCGnmQrDQriNq9NtZ2JDN4vUQ/s1600/IMG_1842_900x675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhUI8y8eqa34TqX5Vb2fjHOJZkUW0RUNrJfpnb_bc8pgMgTbkVqKmqBQgMWfgJIOQncI9624Sw8JAU8TGI882JMZ0BxKc4-5uL4Qi_VUN7oCodTXAZadCGnmQrDQriNq9NtZ2JDN4vUQ/s320/IMG_1842_900x675.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Trash</span></b></span></div>
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Stepping onto the wet sand off our walkway the first thing I noticed were lines of beach flotsam and jetsam deposited by the sea. It was just past high tide, and these markers were high spots of deposits. There, amid the bits of shells, seaweed and bits of grasses were cigarette butts. Leaning down to pick up the first one I spotted 5 more. This continued for about a hundred yards south.<br />
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I never made it to the green rocks. After about 20 minutes my collecting bag was nearly full. Back aching, hip complaining I turned back to do a sweep on the way back and collected even more. North winds blowing my hair out of my eyes I could see more trash, even watching the waves deposit more as I walked. It was staggering, the amount of garbage. A personal best...er, worst for Kure Beach. More tourists on a smoking beach = more cigarette butts. <br />
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Kure Beach Trash Pickup: August 15, 2013; 1.4 pounds of trash<br />
1 hour over a few hundred yards. Mid-afternoon, after storms and rainfall at high tide with heavy seas. <br />
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10 Children's toys<br />
Over 50 bits and pieces of paper and plastic<br />
2 tubes of chapstick<br />
8 plastic cigarillo tips<br />
1 complete empty bottle of water<br />
1 Landshark beer bottle cap<br />
1 plastic spoon<br />
The letters "E" and "A" from something<br />
1 quarter<br />
22 bottle caps<br />
448 cigarette butts<br />
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That last one bears repeating: 448 CIGARETTE BUTTS<br />
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This is plain nasty. I'm going to buy medical gloves for these beach pickups it's becoming so gross. This time I did receive pay for my efforts - one quarter. <br />
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I leave you with a pretty photograph of how a beach should look, sans trash:<br />
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...isn't this better?</div>
The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-33265569760830283302013-07-02T13:51:00.000-05:002013-07-02T13:51:20.365-05:00Beach Colors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There's nothing more colorful than a beach town. People have to paint more often because of the sunshine, salty air and constant winds. Here, their chosen colors are bright and cheerful, boldly standing out in the clear sunshine, stark against bright white clouds and blue skies. <br />
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Bright colors lure in patrons more readily than do dark, brooding colors for who wants to brood at a beach? People themselves don straw hats bestowed with flowing scarves (protection, of course), loud t-shirts and shorts. They fly colorful kites, lie upon neon beach towels, schlep dazzling totes overflowing with flashy beach goodies that rivals a box of 64 Crayola crayons. Their very skin glows from the sun's tint, shiny with oils and lotions. One finds more smiles per capita at any beach town. One simply can't be brooding and frowning at a beach. It's simply not possible. (...cranky children are the exception...)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbK6A7mJ4PeLjVKqeodZdrbk1sf7PlAiK8peEWOaZ3almwMal0KB9euvcYEISg4xuy3ofIK_1T56bzlddXaVd7SxwKe6F1I_NOZMr1hZhmn2ePBH3qer6mLzJwnWI1E6bkG6sfrrmSYo/s900/IMG_3955_900x600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbK6A7mJ4PeLjVKqeodZdrbk1sf7PlAiK8peEWOaZ3almwMal0KB9euvcYEISg4xuy3ofIK_1T56bzlddXaVd7SxwKe6F1I_NOZMr1hZhmn2ePBH3qer6mLzJwnWI1E6bkG6sfrrmSYo/s320/IMG_3955_900x600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Salty air, fresh seafood, children laughing, sunshine blazing, gulls calling, waves crashing - a beach town has a way of lightening ones load, carving out grins and cleansing lungs and souls. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvXLkYspMzFfzMa7nTggOczDlB9Xjv-eL_Samqbqm4_ZwBNDcS0y4S_lkRaD8lQq4Pk6LHBzAHWA-XBg5PULfdWruPhIu1MdVQbzqimfEanTbix0QQqE8-i634haNon2-J0zIRVSeD40/s900/IMG_3895_900x600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvXLkYspMzFfzMa7nTggOczDlB9Xjv-eL_Samqbqm4_ZwBNDcS0y4S_lkRaD8lQq4Pk6LHBzAHWA-XBg5PULfdWruPhIu1MdVQbzqimfEanTbix0QQqE8-i634haNon2-J0zIRVSeD40/s320/IMG_3895_900x600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
After living in such a bright, happy place can I ever go back to town living? We are pondering that very thing. Should we stay or should we go? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMHeKITS4l7Nkw767aNtMqE4B-6quMAmU1f9xptnD78DAfPd6MDP9C9xP01qQkfqe5v-VoUW4MAsziOH1IlyGVSJaBMyUGHz9K20Q8GpKYR2ecycgnrGGgm3EFFyOF4K_S-jArqgkTU6M/s700/IMG_7229_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMHeKITS4l7Nkw767aNtMqE4B-6quMAmU1f9xptnD78DAfPd6MDP9C9xP01qQkfqe5v-VoUW4MAsziOH1IlyGVSJaBMyUGHz9K20Q8GpKYR2ecycgnrGGgm3EFFyOF4K_S-jArqgkTU6M/s320/IMG_7229_700x467.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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I miss some things about town living, but would feel a hole left by the colorful houses and palm trees. Most of all, I would mourn the loss of vast stretches of sunshine and clouds. Here, my soul has been lifted and my heart has found a new song. <br />
The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-87397387818344997292013-06-24T12:08:00.000-05:002013-06-24T12:27:32.809-05:00Challenge<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrJoXVLrBb_zAoiYvb9cz-OVsb9klmNPvr17uXmgu_vWyR4CI6_n3n0azzwlVUsVf-UBGFCFVEr3FFLzyxH5EGFubNU-XOi2lDle0pYzppo8gL-CWJDqYsBmytuvLXzjIJGnZB0uRkco/s1600/photo(1)_900x675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrJoXVLrBb_zAoiYvb9cz-OVsb9klmNPvr17uXmgu_vWyR4CI6_n3n0azzwlVUsVf-UBGFCFVEr3FFLzyxH5EGFubNU-XOi2lDle0pYzppo8gL-CWJDqYsBmytuvLXzjIJGnZB0uRkco/s320/photo(1)_900x675.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"> "The trash and litter of nature disappears into the ground with the
passing of each year, but man’s litter has more permanence." </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;">John
Steinbeck</span></div>
<br />
It's past time to get off my butt and get back to picking up other people's nasty butts. Cigarette butts, that is. They are everywhere. Flicked out of windows, rubbed out underneath flip flops, stuck bottom-side-up in the sand. The smell of tobacco rivals the scent of salt water as this beautiful beach remains a smoking beach.<br />
<br />
The determination to begin this project again comes at the urging of friend and new Life Coach, Bo Mackison. Bo is trying to jump start my creative again. We agreed that this project is a good way to get my feet wet...and sandy...and do some good.<br />
<br />
Consider these statistics, all of which vary slightly according to sources. I imagine these decomp estimates must be taken with a grain of salt. Bright, hot sunshine and fresh air hastens the process while junk buried underneath sand and soil or waves enjoy a much longer process of decomposition...if ever. Still, all are lengthy regardless: (oceanconnection.org, thegoodhuman.com)<br />
<br />
Paper towel - 2-4 weeks<br />
Paper bag - 1 month<br />
Apple core - 2 months<br />
Cigarette butts - 1-5 years<br />
Milk cartons - 5 years <br />
Plastic six-pack holders - 400 years<br />
Orange and banana peels - 2-5 weeks<br />
Balloons - 6 months<br />
Plastic coated paper - 6 months<br />
Tinned steel can - 5 years <br />
Plastic bags - 20-1,000 years<br />
Aluminum cans - 50 years<br />
Wool socks - 1-5 years<br />
Plastic bottles - 450 years <br />
Nylon string - 600 years<br />
Leather - 50-80 years<br />
Glass bottles - 1,000 years<br />
<br />
My friend, Danielle, at <a href="http://itstartswithme-danielle.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">It Starts With Me</a> has been logging trash and cigarette butts for quite some time now. My intentions to help her came from a good spot in my heart but I was simply unable to carry the action forward in positive fashion. I'm coming clean. In more ways than one. I mean to do this. It's good for me and it's good for the ocean, for our planet. Moreover, it makes me feel like I'm doing something, however small my contribution. <br />
<br />
Sea turtles cannot distinguish between a free-floating plastic bag and a jellyfish, its usual diet. Birds and turtles, dolphins and whales - creatures of sea and of earth - are filling up on our refuse and dying all around this planet of ours. And we call ourselves sentient beings, humans. <br />
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Edited to "Fossils" by Aoife O'DonovanThe Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-46054300432744588222013-05-28T09:52:00.000-05:002013-05-28T09:52:54.623-05:00The Unfinished Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Like the plough mud that ribbons through salt marshes the
Carolinas tend to seep into your pours, invade your nostrils and stick to your
shoes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Visiting lush gardens, walking
shell-lined beaches, feasting on crab cakes, riding ferries and tasting salt
air is wonderful, but<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a deep need
and desire to know this place on a deeper level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To do so I am compelled to read <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Carolina authors who have lived these rhythms
and know them best.</div>
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If you are ever lucky enough to visit Wilmington, North
Carolina you simply must experience <a href="http://www.twosistersbookery.com/" target="_blank">Two Sisters Bookery</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Located at the Cotton Exchange, close to the
Cape Fear's Riverwalk, a tinkling bell gently announces your arrival as you
step into a world of magic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Real books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ink and paper books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Books that
give off the aroma of knowledge and wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Books that make me weep, they are so beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Carroll and I traveled in Daris the Yaris
through rainy roadways to experience <a href="http://www.twosistersbookery.com/" target="_blank">Two Sisters Bookery</a> during her stay back in
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shelf laden with new books and books by local authors, many bestickered with
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There it was - my first book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not beachy as I'd been craving but was
instead gardeny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The title and cover
begged my attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"The Unfinished
Garden," by Barbara Claypole White - an Englishwoman now living in North
Carolina. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>England?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>North Carolina?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gardening?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>After skimming the back cover I snatched it
off the shelf and offered the owner payment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I'm not a polished book reviewer at all but simply must tell you about
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtiE3eudZDOIAyuP3i-kFZUSoauAf7pj-HjoebYuE2JkvJYusv6tqqbr1ALKaqqryBJ5YEVw0yoboEY4pUrut65iCicFCKVM_maV1wWoZCLynh_RHWrVrEUFuZ6a1aSa0dJYIYasrKKI/s1600/IMG_3884_900x600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtiE3eudZDOIAyuP3i-kFZUSoauAf7pj-HjoebYuE2JkvJYusv6tqqbr1ALKaqqryBJ5YEVw0yoboEY4pUrut65iCicFCKVM_maV1wWoZCLynh_RHWrVrEUFuZ6a1aSa0dJYIYasrKKI/s320/IMG_3884_900x600.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #134f5c;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <span style="color: #0c343d;">The Unfinished Garden</span></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Barbara Claypole White</span></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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"The Unfinished Garden" is about two fractured
people - Tilly and James, and takes place amid gardens in both North Carolina
and England.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Supported by a fascinating
cast of fringe characters we learn Tilly is broken by loss and James is broken
by OCD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While Tilly is a fascinating
character in and of herself I was completely riveted - spellbound - by James.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OCD, or Obsessive
Compulsive Disorder, has affected the lives of several of my friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I've been understanding and nod my head
at all the proper times<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there is no way
in hell I can ever truly "get" what it's like to have OCD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Barbara Claypole White paints a vivid
picture of what James goes through on a daily basis as he struggles with his wayward
brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Page after page revealed what my friends surely must go through daily and for the rest of their lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mental image of how James'
brain makes him walk through a field dotted with dandelions is one that will
stay with you forever, along with his explanation to Tilly's son Isaac as she
overhears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Mind, I also developed a huge crush on James so that may
play some part in my love of this book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How I can have a crush on a book's character attests to the skill of Ms.
Claypole White's writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dance Tilly
and James play as their relationship grows is reminiscent of another favorite
of mine long ago,
"The Shell Seekers."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
couldn't put this book down, and even dreamed about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's a story that changes the colors, the
sounds, the smells of your world for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those of you with a deep abiding love to
read must curl up with this book on a rainy afternoon, a favored quilt over
your lap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rich storytelling, lavish
scenery and a storyline that grabs from the beginning, The Unfinished Garden
shares the story of two broken people who find each other and come together
despite the odds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A simple plot, an old
plot, but a great plot done extremely well.</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Finishing a good book makes my teeth hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's simply over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's plain painful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For weeks James and Tilly just wouldn't leave
me alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were always nearby like
my shadow in late afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I did
what any sane person would do - I wrote to Barbara Claypole White.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I went to her <a href="http://www.barbaraclaypolewhite.com/" target="_blank">website</a> and spilled my guts - told her how much I loved
her book and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that I wasn't ready for
James and Tilly to go away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want
more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to know what happens to
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Incredibly, she wrote me back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After several volleys of e-mails, (I am very grateful
she doesn't think me a stalker,) I think she understood just how touched I was
by her book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ms. Claypole White shared
with me that James and Tilly won't leave her alone either and she hopes to write
a sequel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an aside I discovered
that like me, Barbara Claypole White works to a playlist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Other people DO that!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are
so inclined please visit her website and read REAL reviews by actual writers
and discover <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"The Unfinished Garden" for yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Check out her playlist, too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, and she shared with me the song that may be inspiration for the sequel <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>... but my
lips are sealed...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTpyhCk7nbycL_GzKqVD8WxNX8GChNUeF3jCaOOZXwkevLxcaeriX8VFRO9YQmMlz3BVjjzdeTkN1wLxWMwcXZkRYDeoye19Y-rJLT7tXv_CTp-3HHCc3I_UqCSD73oxrKxwBopKAbY1k/s1600/IMG_3890_900x600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTpyhCk7nbycL_GzKqVD8WxNX8GChNUeF3jCaOOZXwkevLxcaeriX8VFRO9YQmMlz3BVjjzdeTkN1wLxWMwcXZkRYDeoye19Y-rJLT7tXv_CTp-3HHCc3I_UqCSD73oxrKxwBopKAbY1k/s320/IMG_3890_900x600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">My stack of books. Each captivating and worthy of their own post. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">I'm buying books at a fevered pace. You've been warned...</span></i></div>
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The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-22207664468852064592013-03-08T07:39:00.000-06:002013-03-08T07:39:45.405-06:00Happy Anniversary!<br />“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92neEY2kLA0w3w8a5oCTo_aPdld0PBS5KcTS-411onYM21s7H3Exb4pi7BOP8-J0EQjAD1dEmd6Dly1bB-qZovcR_H1ZiLAbAuzcLlkEjw7Fj-OiQYZEF3TKwDVYuZTBq6hgBJpgoLBg/s1600/IMG_5704_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92neEY2kLA0w3w8a5oCTo_aPdld0PBS5KcTS-411onYM21s7H3Exb4pi7BOP8-J0EQjAD1dEmd6Dly1bB-qZovcR_H1ZiLAbAuzcLlkEjw7Fj-OiQYZEF3TKwDVYuZTBq6hgBJpgoLBg/s320/IMG_5704_700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />The quote above, taken from The Hobbit, has proven to be my truth here at the beach. We came here to rest our souls after the ladder experience. This process, this healing time, has had the odd effect of erasing my creative. It completely disappeared, instead becoming a blank white page. White noise. A vast nothingness. These days shooting photographs doesn't come easy but I do it anyway. It may only be a sunrise, a wave, a pelican but I do it in order to remember the process, to keep my skills as fresh as possible. Quite simply, oddly, photography is not the passion that it was Before Ladder. At least for now.<br /><br />Today, March 8, marks the one year anniversary of our arrival at Kure Beach, North Carolina. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2FOFb96ZojxIseq0xPGE-ENgMxdQ1bSzZX27iVbmQJ9QFJwR6jxNNmLXq0d4X7BsCDV4LP9ipuZ6b-Sbne3MWqHQDeFf-ZRZRo9JQRzPnbI7E4ZxYsOBhvtP3oYMe4V9oPr3b6SrlzU/s1600/IMG_6004_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2FOFb96ZojxIseq0xPGE-ENgMxdQ1bSzZX27iVbmQJ9QFJwR6jxNNmLXq0d4X7BsCDV4LP9ipuZ6b-Sbne3MWqHQDeFf-ZRZRo9JQRzPnbI7E4ZxYsOBhvtP3oYMe4V9oPr3b6SrlzU/s320/IMG_6004_700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Our first few months here were idyllic. Spring 2012 was pleasant with abundant sunshine. Lugging chairs to the beach we would simply sit and stare out over the ocean, watch the birds, watch the fishermen and locals who walked along the sparcely attended shoreline. Once, we witnessed the process of evaporation - moisture rising off the ocean, cooling the air - and felt its immediate effect. Sometimes we would talk but more often our companionable silence stretched long and deep. Sinew by sinew my back, shoulders and neck relaxed, gradually, bringing daily noticeable differences. Sleep was deep and sound. Solitary meditative beach walks matched the rhythm of the tides - slow, deliberate, silent. Collecting beach treasures became my new passion. <br />
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And why? Why collect bits of nature? Why do I relish the feel of a barnicle-crusted old shell in my hand? Why must I collect fossilized teeth, bone and barbs? Why do I feel the need to display them, touch them over and over, inhale their briny scent? <br /><br />I think it's because I'm collecting pieces of myself.<br /><br />Treasures that interest me are not the usual shells but those that are worn. Pieces, even. I was worn upon arriving here, and in pieces. <br /><br />Initially, I became passionate about pieces of clam shells. I didn't know at first what they were, but stripes of deep purple, lavender and mauve undulating through smooth creamy pieces caught my eye. I found one. Then another, and another, and another. Before long I had quite the collection, and they are now proudly displayed in clear glass vases and bowls. <br />
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<br />Clam shells are common along the shoreline but they aren't particularly pretty. Clunky, brown things like a horse's hoof can be readily found any given day. However, these clunky brown shells contain a miracle within. As the surf and currents pound them up over time they break up, the brown parts break off and the inner bits of shell are polished by the ocean and sand into these creamy purply bits of loveliness. <br /><br />I like to think that's happening to me, to my soul. The brown, clunky, tired, weary soul I dragged to this place is gradually breaking up, being polished, exposing a soft loveliness inside. <br /><br />Having always been active and creative, goals were penned before coming here. More photography, volunteer with the turtle project, write a book, join a land trust, journal and meditate, learn yoga and Reiki. <br />
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<br />However, what I did instead was simply stop. Stop. I stopped and I breathed. At first, my lungs always felt like I'd been swimming when all I did was walk the beach. The fresh salt air scrubbed my lungs. Walking serpentine sands strengthened my back, my legs and I turned tan and my hair lighter. My long-neglected body finally felt firmer, felt better, felt healthier, felt rested.<br />
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<br />So it has been a year and I think I'm finished resting. I'm beginning to feel the pull of my creative and wonder what direction it will take me. It's time to begin filling in that blank white page.<br /><br /><br />The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-87357243348030865892012-11-17T10:16:00.000-06:002012-11-17T10:16:12.884-06:00Changes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been involved in introspection.</div>
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Meditation.</div>
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Immersion.</div>
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Sensation.</div>
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Absorption.</div>
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Learning.</div>
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Silence.</div>
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Walking.</div>
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Collecting.</div>
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Thinking.</div>
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Learning more. </div>
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Giraffe Head Tree, as a blog, is not right anymore.</div>
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There is no Giraffe Head Tree in my life.</div>
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The inspirational tree is in my mind and always will be.</div>
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But it's my past; not my future.</div>
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To blog again I must make changes.</div>
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Internal and external.</div>
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My new personal journey is begging to be told.</div>
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But not here. </div>
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Or here.....but a different "here." </div>
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I'm thinking...</div>
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Change up the place.</div>
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Redecorate.</div>
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Freshen.</div>
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Breathe new life into this personal space.</div>
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Give it a new name.</div>
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Are you still there?</div>
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The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-75099025644467719572012-10-14T08:04:00.001-05:002012-10-14T14:28:17.677-05:00Today's Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today's challenge: Clearing out my hoop.</div>
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A very, very, very wise woman once demonstrated to me a clear and easy way to think about the effects others have in my life that I ALLOW. You see, I can be a sponge - soaking in everything, every word, every action made by others and allowing these things to color my world. I take things personally all too often.<br />
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It isn't healthy, and for someone entirely too sensitive - like me - it can be very damaging to my body, my soul, my very health.<br />
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This wise woman held up two hands full of colorful hoops. There were yellow ones, pink ones, orange ones, silver ones, blue and red ones, and one green one. "Choose your hoop," she instructed. I chose the green hoop. Green, cause I'm a treehugger. Not surprisingly.<br />
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"Step inside your hoop, so that it surrounds you." I did as instructed. <br />
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"Think of who are closest to you. Those who have the greatest influence on your life." Orange for my husband. Pink for my daughter. Blue for my father. Silver for my mother. Yellow for my sister. "Demonstrate where they are in your hoop - the more they are inside your hoop, the more they are influencing your emotions, your health." (Note: I'm paraphrasing - she said all this stuff much better than I remember!)<br />
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I'd been working hard on these relationships for some months. Most hoops were firmly outside of my personal hoop, but one remained within. This hoop leaned up against my legs. Not good. This hoop is my biggest struggle. Fast forward to today. Today, it's practically leaning vertically against my knees. I aim to shove it away. Granted, I've come a long way. This particular hoop usually stays outside my own. Sometimes it is very, very far away. Today, I have allowed it right back inside my hoop. It's time to give it an emotional shove. <br />
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It's up to me to bring my mind back around into a more healthy state of being. Concentrate on myself, my world. Today, this morning, watching the sunrise on the beach, pelicans and northern gannets flying and swooping, wild waves crashing, this quote came to mind:<br />
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"Don't take anything personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering." (Don Miguel Ruiz)<br />
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Flashback: Remember my post about <a href="http://giraffeheadtree.blogspot.com/2008/12/impressions.html" target="_blank">Impressions</a>? Well, I tend to weigh
every word I say, thinking I may damage someone's psyche. Really? I
don't have that kind of power but perhaps really I'm thinking about how I
allow people's words to effect ME, not them.<br />
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Don't take anything personally - got it. Today, that's my mantra, my chant, until I can feel it deep in my soul. No more needless suffering. I am a strong woman. I'm going out into nature today to breathe in Spirit. <br />
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<br />The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-7105531660939484922012-09-28T13:45:00.000-05:002012-09-28T13:45:32.727-05:00The Giraffe Head Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Daylight hours have been consumed with thoughts and images of dreams I've had the past few nights. A particular image from a snippet, of a part of a dream, will not let go.<br />
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The image: A giraffe breaching the ocean.<br />
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Unless I'm mistaken, giraffe's aren't known for swims in oceans. And if they were to test said oceans the event likely wouldn't be here, on the east coast of the good old USA. Also, if they did decide to take a dip they definitely wouldn't be able to jump out of the water like a whale. Okay, okay...it was only a dream. Must ponder.<br />
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My morning walks with Baylee are enjoyable again, thanks to early autumnal temperatures. Cooler temps and lower humidity is making me long for the sights and sounds I'm used to this time of year. Changing leaves, mist on the lake, the sound of loons, wood smoke, migrating birds, the Loopers traversing the Tennessee River, red buckeye seedpods, possumhaw holly berries - those experiences and many more that I've blogged about for years now under the watchful eye of the Giraffe Head Tree. <br />
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I've struggled with blog content after leaving my beloved GHT and river behind. Nothing has really clicked. The beach is beautiful, the live oaks are majestic, the salt marsh is magical. Most days I walk Baylee, then I put her in the house and then I walk me. Sometimes I walk here. Sometimes I drive to the end of the peninsula and walk there.<br />
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But back to the giraffe imagery. As you know, recently I was lucky enough to see a whale breach the waves just a few hundred yards away from where I was sitting on the beach. Easily, this has been the highlight of my adventure here. For my giraffe to replace the whale - is my giraffe head tree telling me to move on? Or telling me that it's still there, watching over the river, a respite for weary squirrels, a perch for red headed woodpeckers? Maybe it's simply on my mind and these autumnal clues are reminding me of wonderful memories from my past. Which really is reminding me that it's time to make some new ones.<br />
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What is autumn like on a little east coast beach? Time to find out...The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-23269817693088155492012-09-25T13:05:00.001-05:002012-09-25T13:06:38.635-05:00Stop it stop it stop it stop it....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You can't hear the cries of trees over the grating sound of chainsaws, the incessant rumbling and bumbling of bulldozers and bobcats.<br />
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Nor can you hear their screams over the din as stout, proud branches are hacked and pulled off, down onto the ground, loaded into trailers to be hauled away and burned.<br />
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You don't see the bird nests that are destroyed, the butterflies, caterpillars and chrysalis's that are maimed, anoles and tree frogs killed, complete ecosystems that are decimated, or the people who cry at this loss.<br />
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You can't hear the ground shriek as thick roots that anchored a living thing to the earth are yanked out and cast away as nothing.<br />
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The earth is crying today as one of hers is gone for good. I am crying, too. Marc Cohn in my ear, everything blocked out through my iPod, even that doesn't stop the faint rumble from coming through as the carnage continues. <br />
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Makes these seeds ever the more precious. </div>
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<br />The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-43036624941419875762012-09-21T10:58:00.001-05:002012-09-21T10:59:45.831-05:00Beach TreasuresMy personal goals for this beach adventure are simple. Rest, eat healthy, walk abundantly, explore unceasingly, breathe deeply, reconnect with myself and my spouse. We have been extraordinarily blessed with visits by friends and family since arriving so in between various Me Times I've enjoyed this place through their eyes as well.<br />
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A favorite time remains the early mornings. Long, early walks with Baylee followed by long solitary walks on the beach picking up treasures. Amazing finds continue to be these fabulous green rocks that the wild, wild sea throws up onto the beach. Some were too large to carry back, sadly, but the ones I could manage were hoisted under one arm and slogged back to the house, soaking my t-shirt and making my arms quiver with exertion. What fun! Free rocks! Free BEAUTIFUL rocks! I'm saving up for a rock garden that I'm designing in my head.<br />
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This is the first one that I found, all nestled among the dunes next to our walkway. It's a chaos of blues and greens with what I thought to be rusty places embedded throughout.<br />
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Upon closer inspection these appear to be fossilized areas of some sort. Still, there is rust or something there. I purchased a rock and minerals book to help me identify these rocks but no such luck. I need a degree in geology simply to understand what they're trying to get through to me. I'm as dense as a ... rock. I have scads of these rocks, various shapes and sizes lining the front hallway just waiting for their place to be created.<br />
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Some have barnacles crusted on them.</div>
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They are so beautiful.<br />
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This one is small but spectacular. The camera just can't do it justice. Shades of chartreuse with these same rusted fossilized places.<br />
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I see a face. Can you? </div>
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When there are no rocks to be found I pick up bits of beach stuff like these bits of petrified wood, likely from the gazillion shipwrecks that line the eastern coast. At least that's what the romantic in me likes to believe. <br />
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The big surprise has been discovering WWII 50 caliber machine gun bullets driven into the sand by the waves. These are very heavy, but if the Wild, Wild Sea can hoist boulders onto the beach a "little" bullet wouldn't be a challenge at all. These come from Fort Fisher, just south of where we are. During WWII Army soldiers stationed there would fire practice rounds out into the ocean. Amazingly, these bullets tumbled around the sea and ended up back where they began.<br />
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And then there are the shark's teeth. These are all fossils, except for the grey one which I suspect is in the process of fossilization. ? The two large black blobs at the top are chunks of fossilized turtle carapaces, and the little white circle is a vertebra from some huge fish, likely a shark. I was quite proud of my little collection until a neighbor showed me a fossilized shark tooth he found that was, I swear, about 4" long and very thick. Wow. These are mostly white shark teeth. Some are too damaged and some too odd for this amateur to identify.<br />
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The power of this ocean always thrills me. Huge waves, powerful currents, the ebb and flow of vast tides, the migrating birds and sea life, the grandeur of this place - I'm blessed to be here. Looking forward to seeing what Autumn is like on the beach. Thank you all for hanging in here with me. I have missed reading your blogs, missed keeping up with you all, and have missed writing and photographing nature. However, I think my personal tide is still in the process of changing. Blessing to you all...The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-41910389769168811892012-08-16T07:41:00.000-05:002012-08-16T07:42:03.393-05:00Ocean Karma<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Beach living usually involves churning sand and foaming waves, soft sounds of laughter muted by the ocean winds, shells and sunrises, cold beers and hot, good reads under canopies, sweat-cooled skin that smells of coconuts. Simple acts of swimming and walking, watching and enjoying. Oftentimes, however, events snap you out of your walking Zen and remind you just how wild this place really is. Recently, several instances of happenstance did just that to me.<br />
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We were walking on the pier with friends seeing what the local fishermen/women were pulling in out of the depths. Young men were wave boarding on the north side of the beach close to the pier. Kinda like skate boarding but they pop up the waves, skimming flat boards along the surf out into the ocean and pop, pop, pop up the waves, curling around just like skateboards on concrete curls. Fascinating. And not only to me. As we were watching from high above an 8 foot shark - sand or bull - got within mere feet of these boys before the lifeguards blew whistles and closed the beach. Right behind the shark cruised a massive southern stingray, easily 4 feet wide. They circled around for some time before disappearing into the gloom.<br />
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<span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1345119928072153">The most wonderful
blessing of ALL came the next day. A completely
mind-blowing split second in time. A happenstance. A stroke of luck. A
looking in the right place at the right time thing. A friend and I were
sitting on the beach, reading. Being quiet. Just us. The weather was
blustery and partly cloudy. We couldn't put up the canopy for the
winds, which were all wild and willy-nilly. I was reading the latest from a
local author titled "Cape
Fear Murders," a piece of fiction by an author wanting to be like Janet
Evanovitch. The ocean was the color of bronze, and I found myself
fascinated by the waves which came ashore crossing each other from
different directions, creating these swirling eddys of foam and ripples
as they washed high ashore. It was so pretty, mesmerizing, zen,
meditative. The waves were coming in from the southwest, basically, and
were huge, massive things. Swimming was impossible. Shorebirds were
feasting in the foam and pelicans and terns were struggling in the
winds. I found it impossible to read because the sight before me was
more interesting. I've got to set this up for you just right because
the sighting was very short. But important. Life-changing? Maybe.
Likely. Anyway, to the thing. I was just sitting and staring and
suddenly a whale breached the surface. Seriously. It jumped
up in my direction, like heading toward me. It was right beyond the
point where the waves break - very close. I made some noise and pointed
out toward the ocean. My friend was like, "What?! What?!" I couldn't
speak, I was so stunned. Her eyes followed my pointing finger and a few
seconds later we saw it's tail fluke flipping up. My first thought
before seeing the tail fluke was that it was a manta ray because of the
coloration and lack of dorsal fin, except that it was huge, massive,
thick. The tail fluke cemented the fact that we saw a friggin' whale
off the coast of North Carolina. My friend had her smart phone and did some
research. We determined that it must have been a right whale, although
their migration is usually December-March. Still, whales don't read so
they can traverse that path whenever they damn well please. </span></div>
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I saw a whale. A. Whale. To this day I am dumbfounded. <span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1345119928072232">So, that's the best news, the
best time, an event that I can still "feel," if you know what I mean. Oh, and immediately after the whale breached the surface I looked around and
no one else had seen it. People were playing in the sand, walking the
shore, the lifeguard was bored, sunbathers and book readers and
shark-teeth finders - not one had noticed the whale. How many whales have
breached while I had my nose pointed toward the sand looking for
fossils? What a sobering thought.</span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1345119928072232"></span><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1345119928072232">This morning I just happened to wake early and decided to go take sunrise photos. The sunrise was pretty, and I did get some photos. However, walking south to check on the two turtle nests just down the beach I spied these little tracks. Lots of these little tracks. They look just like the baby turtle track images on my Pleasure Island Sea Turtle Project t-shirt. I flagged down the sea turtle patrol to ask, but he said they weren't baby turtle tracks. I'm not sure what they are. Any idea? That's my footprint lower left for scale. Beach tracks fascinate me. Foxes, cats, crabs, birds and now these. How fun is this? </span></div>
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Enjoy the happenstances in your life.The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-84210427803271467052012-08-06T07:16:00.000-05:002012-08-06T07:17:17.596-05:00Still walking...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's true - move to the beach and people will come. And come, and come, and come. I have loved every single minute with visitors both family and friends, and we've more company a'comin' in August and September. This is the longest I've gone without blogging in quite some time! <br />
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We've shared sunrises and sunset together, eaten our weight (and then some) in fresh seafood and amazing local produce, traveled the ferry multiple times, strolled charming beach front shops and explored historical areas. Each visitor brings something new to the overall beach experience. This is a joyful time I shall always remember.<br />
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My personal journey ebbs and flows like the tides. Sometimes I grow in great, repeating splashes and sometimes my growth curls into itself like a wave sloshes around in an eddy on the beach - going nowhere fast. That's okay for I recognize the patterns now. It's just part of the process.<br />
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Just like after each passing storm my personal beach changes. Sometimes I'm all wonky, going up and down like the back of a dragon. And at other times I'm flat, saving my sands for another day. At times treasures crowd my sandy feet arousing my curiosity while the next day the sea refuses to share. I've found fossilized white shark teeth, metal and wood from shipwrecks, the fossilized carapace from a sea turtle, corroded 50 caliber machine gun bullets and other items yet to be identified. <br />
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Today is the 2nd anniversary of the hubby's fall off a ladder. He is doing very well and we are counting our blessings today. Pop the cork! The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-11627565303726857832012-05-19T09:16:00.001-05:002012-05-19T09:17:36.285-05:00Walking the Labyrinth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm shocked that it's been so long since I've posted here. We have been making our acquaintance with the local hospital and cardiologists as the hubs decided to have another "event" as soon as we arrived. Nothing major, but enough to cause concerns. Sigh. Two rounds of company later - already planned and sorely needed - the hubs on new meds - I finally got a haircut - we are back into Relax Mode.<br />
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This place is paradise. There is a magical, mystical quality to the air here. It's fresh, clean and fills my lungs like nothing else. Remember as a child that feeling you got in your lungs after swimming all day? Or being outside all day? How fresh the inside of your lungs feel? And how relaxed your body is? It's that. <br />
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I've begun to do something I call "walking the labyrinth." Solitary walks along the beaches, or boardwalks, or pathways. Mainly the beaches. Most times the camera isn't invited because of the constant wind and sand. The companion in my hand is a net/bag within which I place treasures. Pieces of metal and pottery from shipwrecks that line the coast, usually just offshore. Shipwrecks from Civil War and the WW's. Special shells. And trash, of course. I'm only now beginning to learn the local history.<br />
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At the river/lake my Summer Toe color was a cool blue. Here, I've found a bright shade of turquoise called "Ocean," which fits my new persona. Turquoise, fuchsia and bright white are my new colors. The beach is sinking into my psyche.<br />
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This is a terrible photograph of a moss or seaweed covered rock. These dot the shoreline in a particular place. I've discovered (thanks to Sky) a place to go photograph that looks like Ireland. Not that I've been to Ireland, but what my mind envisions Ireland to look like. One day, one day.<br />
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Is this not the coolest thing? Old bricks? This one was found along a rock barrier sea wall. I'm not sure what they are, but I've found some in the yard as well and will investigate with the locals at some point. <br />
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Intriguing.</div>
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Sometimes one has to get off the computer, walk the earth and soak up new things. This is my time. When the temperature outside reaches 500 degrees Fahrenheit, I'll be back inside doing computery things. In the meantime, you'll find me out walking the labyrinth. The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-20859955017412624662012-04-14T08:57:00.001-05:002012-04-14T08:58:47.050-05:00Sunrise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I sat on the beach, one idyllic spring dawn<br />
I was witness to a miracle<br />
A miracle that happens every day<br />
As I gazed out into the Atlantic, to the far horizon<br />
I saw it happening....</div>
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And out of nothing, the horizon transmutated<br />
From the deep indigo-black, to an amazing crimson<br />
With splashs of orange, yellow and teal<br />
And then....the most amazing thing of all<br />
This giant red ball of celestial luminosity<br />
Rising out of the ashes of yesterday<br />
A perfectly symmetrical ball of pulsating energy</div>
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Transitioning....vermillion to pale crimson to bright saffron yellow<br />
The horizon was on fire with colour<br />
The deeper shades gave way<br />
The sky now totally involved, becomes cerulean blue<br />
The fire subsides, clouds open like the gates of Heaven<br />
Once again, Apollo races across the sky on his Pegasus</div>
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Welcoming morning to us mortals<br />
And he brings the giver of life to his place in the sky<br />
That spectacular, luminous sphere of light and boundless energy<br />
Yes, mighty Sol, our benevolent sun, takes his throne<br />
And this miracle, this everyday miracle....Sunrise<br />
Mine eyes have seen the glory!</div>
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Poem by <a href="http://www.everypoet.net/poetry/blogs/tomahawk" target="_blank">Tomahawk</a></div>
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I've been busy with projects and health issues - nothing particularly blog-worthy but each necessary and very time consuming. And soul consuming. I hope to get back on track with my life next week. Please say some prayers and keep your fingers crossed - whatever works for you. In the meantime please enjoy these sunrise shots and this lovely poem by Tomahawk that fits exactly the way I felt while witnessing this miracle.<br />
<br />The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-46946275951832400342012-04-08T15:16:00.003-05:002012-04-08T15:16:55.165-05:00It Starts With ME<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Easter Sunday</i></div>
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<i>April 8, 2012</i></div>
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This morning Baylee and I rose before the sun, walked to the beach and waited for it's arrival - my own private, personal sunrise celebration on Easter Sunday. To the right, a gentleman was far down doing the same thing. To my left, closer to the pier, was another gentleman. All of us standing still. Waiting. The sky lightened just before a bright white dot popped over the horizon. I stood until the sun was free, rising higher into the morning blue, counted my blessings and then headed for home. Happy Easter.<br />
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Today marks the beginning of a new project. Researching North Carolina habitats, native plants and critters, looking for preserves, gardens and conservation areas I unexpectedly stumbled upon a cause. A younger, more savvy person thought up this cause and was running like crazy with it. I was ready for something proactive to do and this cause totally fits me. Basically, it's something I can do when we go to the beach. In my down time I'll be doing something worthwhile for our planet. I like that.<br />
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Danielle lives to make a difference. She is the kind of motivated young woman who is truly inspirational - a fabulous role model for kids of all ages. To say Danielle's blog is about picking up litter would be an understatement. Words here cannot fully express the depth of her project and how far reaching it is becoming. Her beach butts project got my attention. How many cigarette butts have I seen on the beach since being here? Tons. And how many had I picked up? Not one. Until now.<br />
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Danielle and I have made contact and I am doing my part for The Daily Ocean. Above are the fruits of my labor at Fort Fisher's public beach. In 20 minutes I found 150 cigarette butts and a whole lotta trash....including a bright orange plastic Easter egg. <br />
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For my part I'll walk Carolina Beach, Kure Beach and Fort Fisher to clean up and give her counts as often as possible. Also, the preserves, conservation sites, gardens, etc. that I visit to blog about I'll do the same. Danielle is keeping up with all this stuff but I'll also keep a running tab in my sidebar. Please visit Danielle's blog - I made a BIG BUTTON linking to her in the sidebar - or you can link here to <a href="http://itstartswithme-danielle.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">It Starts With Me</a>. Tell her I sent ya and give her lots of kudos. She deserves it.The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-83068911180686244412012-04-03T09:54:00.002-05:002012-04-03T09:55:28.758-05:00Day on the Beach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZX5gCyBRsndjrqwYzCo-ig9IaGDbtBQ9fxcVPJ08YFqg1E-bLO-eqrwY-mS4at_o6dxFIXgwJRSWSvnoWAV_UwGkz0QozvzJF4RQjOlFh3GWKmlldZaiTOSs_U_pr0Z-QvZ95kQNMaPQ/s1600/IMG_4591_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZX5gCyBRsndjrqwYzCo-ig9IaGDbtBQ9fxcVPJ08YFqg1E-bLO-eqrwY-mS4at_o6dxFIXgwJRSWSvnoWAV_UwGkz0QozvzJF4RQjOlFh3GWKmlldZaiTOSs_U_pr0Z-QvZ95kQNMaPQ/s320/IMG_4591_700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Laughing Gull</i></div>
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The past couple of days have been very, very windy. Still, we braved the breezes to sit on the beach and relax after days of working on the house. Laughing Gulls think people are meal tickets. They were sadly mistaken in our case, but at least I got some good shots as they crept closer and closer before flying off in search of better opportunities. <br />
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<i>Cormorant</i></div>
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Enjoying the beach yesterday was a challenge. White caps as far as the eye can see, wind blowing over chairs and tumbling cups and shells and sand. Still, we insisted because ... well, we could. This cormorant was a delightful surprise. Facing the wind he stretched out his wings to dry them in the breeze. I got fairly close to him but not close enough to scare him off. It's his beach, too.<br />
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The longer we sat the lower the sun sank behind us, casting an unusual glow onto the waves. The gusts sent choppy ocean waves roaring toward the beach in rapid succession, each on the heels of the other.<br />
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We were transfixed and could have sat there for hours if not for the temperature dropping. There was a wind chill cutting through our sweatshirts, for after all, it IS only April. With lowering temps, rising winds and an ocean spray beginning to hit us it was time to put the camera back into the safety of its case.<br />
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But first....just one more shot....The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-47461831037733684082012-03-30T13:50:00.001-05:002012-03-30T13:50:35.672-05:00Spiderwort of North Carolina<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've discovered that spiderwort grows wild here along our lane, down the street, tucked beneath the various native shrubs and trees of North Carolina. Most of the spiderwort here are a luscious blue purple. Likely ignored by most, these jeweled wonders are grouped hither and yon begging for closer inspection.<br />
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The macro lens brings to the forefront these sweet feathers! I've never been this close to a spiderwort before - how remarkable! It is true that spiderwort lacks a certain "wow factor." They are tiny blossoms, made mostly of foliage trying to compete with flashier flowers.<br />
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This morning was slightly overcast so the colors really popped. Bright yellow and brilliant, deep blue purple. Can it get any better?<br />
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I'm thinking not.</div>
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And then I spy one that's more blue than the others. I'm just stunned by their beauty.</div>
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Close by are these lavender mini-orchid wildflowers. Teeny tiny blossoms spiraling up a slender, tall stalk. The wind was picking up making shooting more difficult. This is the best shot. <br />
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The "lowly" spiderwort stole the show for me today - I just had to share them with you.The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-67909597771404808402012-03-23T11:59:00.000-05:002012-03-23T12:00:40.697-05:00Live Oaks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Baylee
and I are back to enjoying our morning walks. This, above, is our
favorite lane. One block over from our house we enjoy old, gnarled live
oaks that frame us as we stroll. The undergrowth has been cleared,
exposing the twisting, stately trunks and thick branches that underlie their
beauty</span><br />
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Sunrise always strikes this particular grouping of live
oaks. While Baylee snuffles and shuffles beneath them following invisible
trails of deer and rabbit, coyote and raccoon, I stand in awe, completely mystified
by the sight. Live oaks have always been my favorite trees. These
on the coast are smaller and more windswept than others I've witnessed more
inland. That's just an observation. </div>
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Live oaks are found from southeastern Virginia through the
lower Coastal Plain of North Carolina and southward. Plentiful only south
of Cape Hatteras, it is a tree with a wide-spreading crown and very gnarled
branches. Usually, these stately branches are covered with Spanish moss,
but they also are a key host to resurrection fern. Live Oaks are evergreen and long-lived, their
tough leathery leaves make them extremely resistant to salt spray. Their roots can withstand occasional storm
surge salt waters. </div>
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Live oaks don't grow particularly tall - usually no more
than 50 feet in height. However, it may have a crown span of 100 feet or
more and open-grown trees may have trunk diameters of 6-7 feet. The wood
is very difficult to saw and dry. Air-dried, the wood weighs about 55 lbs
a cubic foot. Once prized for blocks and ribs on sailing
ships it now serves as a highly desirable tree for roadside and ornamental
planting along the coast. The
U.S.S. Constitution was one of six frigates authorized in 1794 by President George
Washington for national defense. The ship
was built primarily with live oak.
"Old Ironsides" owes it nickname to the live oak tree. During the War of 1812 someone reportedly
witnessed an iron shot bounce off the side of the ship and exclaimed
"Huzza, her sides are made of iron!"
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Live oaks' huge canopy provides shelter for numerous species
of birds, mammals, reptiles and amphibians.
We find them lying in the sunshine on our deck, occasionally. Tree frogs and lizards so far - hope that's
all that visit. Live oak acorns are a
plentiful and desirable food for a wide variety of wildlife. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdgZWHCYXneHkaJdUdt32oa8Ng9IHd4UjIZGzJzK-Rl8u81nyhYLd1fUUgwiXHP0ewrzL5K1_Bn4kFxMyxlsx19ABSKFKJkg4sEonSVZ5FuLEMDxg-D-JgdWhtrRlFp_6T3-GjYhaGAg/s1600/IMG_4440_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdgZWHCYXneHkaJdUdt32oa8Ng9IHd4UjIZGzJzK-Rl8u81nyhYLd1fUUgwiXHP0ewrzL5K1_Bn4kFxMyxlsx19ABSKFKJkg4sEonSVZ5FuLEMDxg-D-JgdWhtrRlFp_6T3-GjYhaGAg/s320/IMG_4440_700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Researching for this post I learned that the coastal
maritime forest is among the most endangered of natural communities, facing
threat from development in addition to climate change. Nearly all of North Carolina's old-growth
live oaks disappeared by the end of the 19th century. today, all of the live oak trees in the state
from either in developed areas or pockets of maritime forest that are in
extreme danger. Most of this information
was lifted directly from "Live Oak" by Kevin Adams. You can read his entire article by linking
<a href="http://www.ourstate.com/live-oak-trees/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-38198689799937309342012-03-19T13:43:00.000-05:002012-03-19T13:44:23.345-05:00Fog on the Beach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcnOAiZpa-xS92hl4dmyWDC58ec93EJnX5wQYAaGS3gbRen-GbNEhA3rU5o9nb9D8rxFpo6jg5dwqsH_kxaWJcvkD71Lwcg0ru2aC-by8AW8segIaBEuSjQ15nEolZXG4jymRyRNvvI4/s1600/IMG_4392_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcnOAiZpa-xS92hl4dmyWDC58ec93EJnX5wQYAaGS3gbRen-GbNEhA3rU5o9nb9D8rxFpo6jg5dwqsH_kxaWJcvkD71Lwcg0ru2aC-by8AW8segIaBEuSjQ15nEolZXG4jymRyRNvvI4/s320/IMG_4392_700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We sat on the beach,</div>
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Baylee on a leash,</div>
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to watch the fog roll in.</div>
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Roiling from the north</div>
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covering houses like smoke,</div>
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curling and smothering sound.</div>
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Muted waves crashed.</div>
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tide coming in, inching closer</div>
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to our toes wave by wave</div>
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Gulls stand with sandpipers,</div>
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standing on one leg</div>
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all in a line, watching</div>
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Sun glowed through,</div>
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a soft light bathed,</div>
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eerily creating fog shadows</div>
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Storm-grey blue and green,</div>
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bright white foam,</div>
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Tan sand and green grass</div>
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I touch my hair; it is dripping.</div>
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moist dots on Baylee's fur </div>
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like sequins.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXFwXAN640m7be79qBWO0rmfPWn8AeSwoVBkATrswzLFcSTHXPoEOeUZoyHxdQpygQqKKdtfHzMpZKWX1OoI87DH71qn17Tvd7JzYy5V6hgoUgiWCnPT4ADSCL2BForaQXHKdLbe6Oxg/s1600/IMG_4406_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXFwXAN640m7be79qBWO0rmfPWn8AeSwoVBkATrswzLFcSTHXPoEOeUZoyHxdQpygQqKKdtfHzMpZKWX1OoI87DH71qn17Tvd7JzYy5V6hgoUgiWCnPT4ADSCL2BForaQXHKdLbe6Oxg/s320/IMG_4406_700x467.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Wet thick fog envelopes.</div>
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wispy tendrils float</div>
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inland over the dunes.</div>
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Collecting shells, the sand flies</div>
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when we shake the towel</div>
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and head for home.</div>
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</div>The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-16372260000040836112012-03-17T07:55:00.002-05:002012-03-17T07:56:33.564-05:00Awakening<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnu5Gjm2iHA1SP-hb_50jcsqjRh3MoBdmytdB8g0tvWRZkhNuQ0ta-R8A5cHZMgQCnIWc0qYn8WerKurq_qHNKK-YZjw2B-YnpCXXynMr1dMUwovtEPpVn4JTA1-9i_DbKMjDwa6pXYk/s1600/IMG_4335_northern-dewberry-700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnu5Gjm2iHA1SP-hb_50jcsqjRh3MoBdmytdB8g0tvWRZkhNuQ0ta-R8A5cHZMgQCnIWc0qYn8WerKurq_qHNKK-YZjw2B-YnpCXXynMr1dMUwovtEPpVn4JTA1-9i_DbKMjDwa6pXYk/s320/IMG_4335_northern-dewberry-700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Northern Dewberry</i></div>
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Beach bums since Monday, our days have been filled with the busyness of settling in. Not much time for relaxing or exploring, but those days are approaching. During downtime I explore the yard. These little white flowers are everywhere. Wild and low, rambling along fence lines, peaking their heads up through low decking, they are bright white in the sunshine. Sunshine. I'd forgotten how bright the beach is, and how much I love the color of the light. It's dazzling, and the roads have diamonds glittering within. But I digress. </div>
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This beauty buzzed by for a visit as I explored. Gorgeous creature, but not sure exactly what it is. A wasp seemingly, but the like of which I've not noticed before. Fortunately, it was more interested in the flowers than in me. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVHCrkIXORn_1UinY7l0mtbXRDo6z7wwDYLw4Nq_BT4QqIlx1GTQ9zWqkbezhM1MhQ2VSXd40llY8Cr6bZN7jkhDymwPP4_DfoB38u8TpfVsm5taDa8deQuiGZkUjpBQ26TDtjFIq-V0/s1600/IMG_4344_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVHCrkIXORn_1UinY7l0mtbXRDo6z7wwDYLw4Nq_BT4QqIlx1GTQ9zWqkbezhM1MhQ2VSXd40llY8Cr6bZN7jkhDymwPP4_DfoB38u8TpfVsm5taDa8deQuiGZkUjpBQ26TDtjFIq-V0/s320/IMG_4344_700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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There are live oaks everywhere, which are one of my top ten favorite trees. Scattered beneath them are all manner of rambling bushes and plants. I brought my pruning tools but I've learned not to whack indiscriminately. Each plant begs identification. I've no clue what this is, above, but love the little blue berries. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSRLiynaneAlDJpwQB-RTjmtBQl3U0ayWLAQ1mSJskPI5GYFf_-6Ax7DSGPqOG7tVTlp59QZBFV52k6ZvV3n18PeiChkJ4YhxNWV-wi4RzhUKuLjOBZJAhlaHQiVvhbR2iUp3W2NA3Pcw/s1600/IMG_4349_yaupon-holly_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSRLiynaneAlDJpwQB-RTjmtBQl3U0ayWLAQ1mSJskPI5GYFf_-6Ax7DSGPqOG7tVTlp59QZBFV52k6ZvV3n18PeiChkJ4YhxNWV-wi4RzhUKuLjOBZJAhlaHQiVvhbR2iUp3W2NA3Pcw/s320/IMG_4349_yaupon-holly_700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A yaupon holly is growing tall amid the branches of a live oak. Until I clear out the underbrush I'm not sure what to do, if anything. Why do anything at all, Bob asks? A good question.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAjDp8lVsRJpP_9ma9sIBZT-KFKWuR3XpdsJ45DQLDpHXSxcAr8deyp9Dd1SdbCbHAcXdYfat4AsN6nUpIgbriyyhv89WrI54g55FUhmXrYkmKnFH4WtYe12EV5qZ-KoNnDicxOvPkJQ/s1600/IMG_4353_cat-brier-vine_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAjDp8lVsRJpP_9ma9sIBZT-KFKWuR3XpdsJ45DQLDpHXSxcAr8deyp9Dd1SdbCbHAcXdYfat4AsN6nUpIgbriyyhv89WrI54g55FUhmXrYkmKnFH4WtYe12EV5qZ-KoNnDicxOvPkJQ/s320/IMG_4353_cat-brier-vine_700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A garland of cat-brier vines drape over and within the live oaks' canopies. They produce these gorgeous, fat, juicy blue-black berries that feed over 13 different species of birds. Why not leave them there, Bob asks? Another good question. </div>
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The minutiae of curlicues and spines and bokeh provided by the various plants, blue of the sky beyond. I just love this image. </div>
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There is a huge palm tree planted out front that does indeed need some trimming before it takes out an eye. That'll also wait... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnJD8W9HpvaFWc0omGeA2M_dP0n8VeAtmzLmwDlzI3PdMEaou3ri2iwDOqqNk0sEZW2rrxdO7tHRxUlKYy2UD_o3QXX8ZTZmxMCnuc8EoaTxejQNlxqva2Y2vah-FXJiNX5YjhU05Ois/s1600/IMG_4366_700x467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnJD8W9HpvaFWc0omGeA2M_dP0n8VeAtmzLmwDlzI3PdMEaou3ri2iwDOqqNk0sEZW2rrxdO7tHRxUlKYy2UD_o3QXX8ZTZmxMCnuc8EoaTxejQNlxqva2Y2vah-FXJiNX5YjhU05Ois/s320/IMG_4366_700x467.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Because today, the northern dewberries bloom, casting their shadows as they face the sunshine. The sky is blue and filled with lines of brown pelicans gliding above the waves, cormorants scurrying northward, and all manner of gulls. The grackles are making their beachy sounds. This morning I rescued a box turtle who thought the roadway was a nice place to sleep. Baylee and I have found a lovely lane lined with sodium lights and live oaks upon which to take our morning walks. She loves the beach, and bounds and romps with the waves. This morning I returned to the beach after our walk to watch the sunrise. There was a storm way out over the ocean which made the sun late in its arrival, but once it came the water, sand and sky was filled with golds, purples, teal and peach. Again, a glimmer of something began deep, deep within. My camera rested within its case this morning. The sunrise was just for me, and me alone. For I was very alone on the beach. No other person could be seen. The Atlantic washing over my bare toes, treasured shells nestled in my drained coffee cup, I stood tall looking out over the ocean and communed with Spirit. Let the healing begin.</div>The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2618636316183469027.post-317913627875285832012-02-27T07:41:00.002-06:002012-02-27T07:44:57.973-06:00Adventure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is a bridge to somewhere. </div>
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This is a path to adventure, enlightenment, peace, Spirit</div>
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This is Self. </div>
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This is a trail that will not be denied.</div>
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This is hope and opportunity.</div>
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We have been given a gift. A rare, beautiful, timely gift. The gift of healing ocean breezes, sunshine, the call of gulls, endless horizons and unexplored grasslands and wetlands. Turtles and pelicans. Driftwood and seashells. Peace. Calm. Breath of Life. </div>
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Our house has been sold. Most of our possessions have been given away, donated, pitched. The good stuff will go in storage. For 6-9 months we will be overseeing repairs at my stepfather's house on a beach in North Carolina. Kure Beach. We plan to return, unless the lure of the ocean won't allow us to. It depends. I feel so free. So untethered. My GeoGypsy pal Gaelyn has come to mind so much through this process. She would be the first to say WAY TA GO! </div>
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After this year of trauma, doctors, hospitals, surgeries, doctors, procedures, physical therapy, counseling, exhaustion, fear, anxiety, and driving, driving, driving we are both so excited about leaving this place of pain. This house is a good house, a comfortable house, but it has some hard memories we choose to release. The future is approaching way too fast as we age, and it's time to embrace a new place, new adventures, new smells and sights. Fresh seafood! New habitats to explore and write about, photograph and blog. </div>
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I will be sharing my adventures on this blog and another one soon to be announced. Imagine! Ferries and wetlands! The wild winds off the ocean! What will come on shore tomorrow and the next day? I will get to see sunrises and sunsets again in all their glory! Pelicans flying by every day! It's about damn time I get to use exclamation points again. I've earned the right and I'll use them often and freely and without shame! </div>
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Thank you all for being my blogging friends all these years. The Giraffe Head Tree remains on her perch overlooking the Tennessee River, but...you know what? I just realized...she faces East, and that's where I'm going. </div>
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Stay tuned...</div>The Giraffe Head Treehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11163787271055203400noreply@blogger.com13